


The Holiday Series

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Halloween, New Year's Eve, One Shot, Pre-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-07 23:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: Pre-Apocalypse.  The reader and Daryl find themselves thrown together at Halloween, and again on Christmas day.  But with the clock counting down to midnight, will they seal their newfound connection with a New Year’s kiss?  A series of short stories set over the holidays.





	1. Just A Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the reader accidentally draws an unwilling Daryl Dixon into the old party game Seven Minutes In Heaven, she finds herself more drawn to the redneck than she’d care to admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my entry for @underatedcharactersunite‘s Halloween Edition 7 Minutes In Heaven Writing Challenge on Tumblr. My prompt item was a cigarette and, obviously, I chose to write for Daryl!

You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here, shut away in the tiny box room of your best friend’s house on Halloween with Daryl Dixon, the youngest son of the town’s most troublesome family.  You hadn’t had much to do with them, thankfully, your daddy warning you to keep your distance.  He was the local sheriff and he’d been the one to drag Daryl’s old man home on one too many occasions when he’d drunk himself into a stupor in the run-down bar on the outskirts of town, as well as spending many a night watching over Merle, the older brother, in the station’s holding cell, waiting for him to be picked up and carted off for yet another drug offence.  Whilst Daryl seemed to have managed to keep his head down and stay out of trouble, the family’s reputation clung to him like thick, swampy mud, and so people tended to give him a wide berth.

You’d barely registered his presence at the party until your turn had come round in the juvenile game of Seven Minutes In Heaven that had sprung up in the centre of the living room as the steady flow of alcohol had lowered inhibitions and ramped up the flirtatious desire.  You knew he’d gone to school with your friend’s older brother, so maybe that was what had scored him the invite, but, as he lounged against the wall in the cramped space, his gaze steely, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.  That look had only increased when, moments after you’d settled yourself back into place after reaching forwards to set the empty bottle spinning wildly in the centre of the circle, it slowed to a halt with its neck pointing towards a gap in the players, an empty space behind which stood the unsuspecting and unwilling redneck.  His eyes narrowed into a glare as expectant eyes turned to him, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he took a gulp of his drink and shook his head.

‘Nah, ain’t happenin’.’

‘C’mon man,’ one of the younger guys spoke up.  ‘It’s a party, loosen up a little!’

You could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as the rest of the group joined in the chorus, berating the poor guy for ruining their fun and taunting him for his lack of interest.  Before long, the raised voices had captured the interest of those not even involved in the game and, when he turned to make his escape, Daryl found his path blocked by curious onlookers.  Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and pushed yourself to your feet, cutting across the circle and holding your hand out to the trapped prey as he fidgeted uncomfortably.  ‘Come on.’

‘Nah, I told ya.  I ain’t playin’.’

‘We don’t have to do anything,’ you reassured him in a harsh whisper, trying to ignore the fact that you were the tiniest bit offended by his obvious disdain.  Surely you weren’t that repulsive!  ‘I’m trying to get you the hell out of here.  So, are you coming or not?’

With a quiet huff, he allowed himself to be tugged from the room, the crowd parting to form a corridor that led you directly to the smallest bedroom, the chosen location for the heavenly seven minutes to take place given that there were no closets in the house big enough to fit two people without claustrophobia setting in.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind you to the sound of jeers erupting, Daryl yanked himself from your grasp as though burnt and retreated to the opposite side of the room where he perched himself on the window sill and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.  Lighting one up, he studiously ignored you, staring out into the darkness outside, and you sank down onto the narrow single bed with a sigh.

‘I’m sorry about that.’  Nothing.  Not a shrug.  Not a word.  It was going to be a long seven minutes.  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party before.’  A slight incline of his head.  ‘You were in James’ year at school, right?  That why you came?’

‘Nah.’  Finally, he glanced your way, blowing a stream of smoke into the room, the thin grey wisps curling towards the ceiling.  ‘M’here for Merle.’

‘Oh, is he here?  I didn’t-‘

‘Like he’d be invited to a party with this crowd,’ Daryl scoffed, cutting you off, before catching himself and shutting down again, turning his attention back to the window.

‘So, he sent you instead?’  Your brow furrowed before a sudden realisation hit you and you pushed yourself up from the bed, stalking across the room towards him.  ‘You’re not dealing in here are you?’

Something flashed across his face, though you weren’t sure if it was hurt or panic and it was gone before you could figure it out.  ‘Wha’s it to you?’

‘This is my best friend’s house.’  Your hand came to rest on your hip of its own accord, your grip biting as you fought to control your rising anger.  ‘If you get caught it’ll come down on her and her folks will freak.  Seriously, if you’re-‘

‘M’not.’

You continued to glare at him until he pushed himself up from the ledge, clamping his cigarette between his lips as he slid his hands into the pockets of  his jeans and turned them out.  He repeated the move with his back pockets, proving that they were empty before settling himself back down and fixing you with an irritated glare.  ‘Well, then why-‘

‘Ditched it ‘fore I got here, okay?  Figured I’d hang a while, tell Merle somebody made off with the cash.’  He cocked his head to one side, as if challenging you and what you thought him capable of.  ‘I don’t deal. Never have.  I ain’t my brother.’

Chastened by his outburst, you moved to perch on the other end of the sill, though you kept a safe distance between you.  ‘So, why go through the whole act?  Why even show up?  Why not just tell him no?’

‘Ya don’t say no to Merle.’  It was said light-heartedly, with a scoff, but there was a weight to his words and a pain behind his eyes that made you think his brother might have a temper almost as vicious as Old Man Dixon was rumoured to have.  ‘’Sides, I din’t have nothin’ better to do tonight.’

You nodded slowly, but kept your mouth shut, checking your watch to see how much longer you’d be trapped in there.  Barely halfway yet.  Dammit.

‘Yer the sheriff’s girl, right?’  Daryl spoke up voluntarily this time and you were glad of the conversation, though you could feel his hostility as he acknowledged your father’s role.

‘That’s right.’

‘Surprised he lets ya leave the house with scum like me walkin’ the streets.’

‘Like he could stop me.’  You and your father had clashed too many times over the years.  He knew the worst of the people who inhabited the town, but he’d also raised a savvy, stubborn daughter who wasn’t about to be dictated to by anybody.  ‘I can take care of myself.’

‘That right?’

‘Yeah.’  Buoyed by the hint of respect in Daryl’s gaze, you closed the gap between you, leaning across to retrieve the cigarette from his lips and placing it between your own, inhaling deeply.  ‘I’m not a little girl.’

‘Nah, guess y’ain’t.’  Without his smoke to keep him occupied, Daryl brought his beer to his mouth again, taking a swig before a smirk quirked his lips.  ‘Wonder what he’d say if he knew ya were shut in here with me though.’

You shrugged.  ‘Not like we’re doing anything.  You made it pretty clear you’re not interested.’

‘’N’ you are?’

‘It’s seven minutes in heaven, man.  It’s supposed to be fun.  S’not like I wanted you to ask me out or anything.’

He shifted closer, a frisson of tension springing up between you as he processed your response.  ‘Guess ya really ain’t daddy’s good little girl, huh?’

You opened your mouth to blow smoke rings in his face, grinning when he breathed them in.  ‘What daddy doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.’

‘How long we got left?’

Glancing at your watch, you wrinkled your nose.  ‘About a minute.  Don’t worry, you’ll be free to go before you know it.’

‘Wan’ make it count?’

The question hung in the air as his gaze locked on yours, his eyes a piercing blue, his shoulders squared in a beer-fuelled act of faux confidence as he braced himself for the inevitable rejection.  You took a long drag of the cigarette, stubbing it out on the sill beside you as you reached its end, your mind racing.  Could you really do this?  Make out with a Dixon?  Sure as hell, your dad would be all over you if he found out, and yet there was something about this one that told you he was different from the others, softer somehow, sweeter.  Decision made, you slid back to the ground, your hands going to Daryl’s knees and separating them so you could stand between his legs, letting your fingers ghost up and over his chest until they were laced at the back of his neck.

‘Thirty seconds,’ he murmured as your lips hovered over his.  You could smell the bitter tang of smoke on his breath, feel the sweat that dampened the ends of his hair as they curled against the nape of his neck.

‘Shut up.’

You captured his mouth with ease, gasping when he met you with a hunger that you hadn’t expected.  As soon as your lips had touched, his arms had wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer as he devoured you, greedy with need and starved of affection.  What really surprised you was the electricity that surged through your veins as his scruff scraped against your skin, your body straining towards him as he devastated you with his kisses.

When he broke away, he was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed but he didn’t release you, keeping you close, his mouth opening and closing as if he were about to speak.

‘Daryl-‘  Kiss me again, you wanted to say.  Don’t go.  Stay here with me. I don’t want to let you go.  What the hell are we doing?  What is this?  Is there something here?

You didn’t get to say any of it.  Your plea was interrupted as the door flew open with a playful shout of, ‘Time’s up, lovebirds!’ and the noise of the party filtered back in, the moment ruined as you stepped out of Daryl’s embrace, shivering as his warmth was peeled away from you.

‘S’okay,’ he muttered, already moving towards the doorway, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there.  ‘I gotta take off anyway.’

‘But-‘

‘Don’t.’  He shut you down, glancing back at you with a small smile before he turned to leave.  ‘I get it.  S’just a game, right?’

But he didn’t get it.  Not at all.  Daryl Dixon had just shifted your world on its axis with a kiss.  Seven minutes in heaven, maybe.  But watching his retreating back getting swallowed up by the crowd, your lips still tingling after the intense pressure of his kisses, the taste of his cigarette lingering on your tongue, and the image of your daddy’s disapproving glare vivid in your imagination… That was hell.


	2. Just For Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl Dixon sits alone outside an empty house. His brother’s gone, his father’s God-knows-where. The reader stalks out of her house in a fit of pique after a vicious argument breaks out between her parents. When their paths cross, they agree to spend the day together and, when another game gets out of hand, find comfort in each other’s arms. But is it just for Christmas?

You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here, sitting cross-legged on the wooden boards of Daryl Dixon’s living room floor, the youngest son of the family opposite you, studiously avoiding your gaze.  You hadn’t seen him for the past couple of months, not since you’d gotten closer than intended at your best friend’s Halloween party, but now, as his piercing blue eyes fixated on the overflowing ashtray that sat beside the solitary armchair you leaned against, the attraction that you’d tried to damp down was stirring in your stomach again.

The breeze had been bitterly cold as you stalked along the street, pulling your collar up around your neck to fend off the chill.  Your hands were numb, your nose tingling, but still you didn’t turn back.  You couldn’t face going back to that house, sitting around that dining room table and pretending like the empty chair wasn’t the focus of the waves of hostility reverberating around the room, while your mom chewed her food in frosty silence.

Christmas day.  Christmas damn day and your dad had been called away for work.  It wasn’t surprising really, given that he was the town sheriff and, ever the martyr, tried to give as many of his men a break over the holiday as he could, remaining on duty himself for any emergencies that might come in.  But it still sucked when his phone rang at the very moment that your mom was laying out the feast that she’d spent all morning preparing.  Their snarled exchange had been audible from your bedroom, where you’d retreated as soon as you’d seen the anger flash over your mom’s face, and you’d tugged on your boots and shrugged into your jacket, taking the stairs two at a time in your hurry to get away.

You’d walked in a daze, hardly paying attention to where you were headed, trying to ignore the icy shard of loneliness that had pierced your heart, when you’d heard your name rasped by a familiar voice.  When you’d looked up, head turning this way and that as you searched for who’d spoken, you finally spotted him, sitting on the porch steps of a dilapidated house on the edge of town, and only then did you realise how far you’d travelled.  Daryl had pushed himself to his feet, ambling over the tufty grass of his front garden, leaning his hands on the rickety stretch of fence as he waited for you to approach.

‘What ya doin’ all the way out here?’

'Felt like taking a walk,’ you’d lied.

'Alone?’ he’d queried, his brow creasing as he’d stared you down.  'On Christmas day?  Shouldn’t ya be sittin’ round the table eatin’ whatever food it is you people eat 'n’ bein’ adored by yer ma 'n’ pa?’

You sighed.  You’d known what he thought of you, of course: spoiled, pretentious child.  The girl who had everything.  It didn’t help that it was your dad that had arrested Merle for dealing again not six weeks ago, earning him another stint behind bars and leaving Daryl with his asshole father to deal with.  'Dad got called into work.’

‘’N’ yer mom?’

'Probably on her third bottle of wine by now,’ you spat bitterly, noticing how his face darkened.  'Sorry.  Families, right?’

He’d nodded.

'So,’ you went on, scratching around for something else to say.  'Where’s your old man?  He inside?’

'Nah.’  Daryl shrugged.  'Din’t come home last night.  Prob'ly drunk himself into a stupor at the bar 'n’ decided t’ start right up again soon as the sun came up.’

He’d been alone all day.  It broke your heart, just a little, and your decision to storm out in a huff felt melodramatic all of a sudden.  His loneliness was almost tangible as he shuffled his feet against the ground, lifting his hand from the fence to chew at his thumbnail distractedly.  You’d thought the conversation was over, were planning how to extract yourself without making things any more awkward, and the invite to come inside had taken you aback.  By the look of shock that flashed across Daryl’s face, you thought that it had fallen from his lips before his mind had time to think it through, but your answer had spilled out in just the same way, your decision driven as much by the desire to spend time in his company as the knowledge that it would piss your father off no end if he ever found out where you’d spent the holiday.

'Yeah, I’d like that.’

The first thing he’d done once he’d ushered you into the spartan living room was motion for you to sit and disappear into the kitchen, reappearing with two large bags of chips which he tossed onto the ring-marked coffee table.  'Dinner.’

And that was where you now sat, picking absently at what remained of the junk food and racking your brain for something to say.  He hadn’t spoken again except to offer you a beer, which you’d gratefully accepted, and his idle flicking through the channels on the grainy TV in the corner was grating on your nerves.

 

* * *

 

'We should play a game,’ you finally announced decisively, bringing his eyes to yours as a frown furrowed his brow.

'Ya what?’

'A game.  Like, a drinking game,’ you insisted.  'C'mon, it’s kinda our thing, right?’

If nothing else, you figured, it might get him talking, but you couldn’t deny the simmering hope in your stomach that it might give you another opportunity to get close to the moody redneck.  You’d watched him as he ate, tossing the chips into his mouth almost robotically, brushing the salt that clung to his large hands off on his jeans.  His hair hung over his face, hiding those crystal blue eyes from you, but when they occasionally glanced up and landed on yours, you felt your cheeks glow with warmth.  His broad shoulders looked wider than ever in the small room, his entire frame dwarfing the small table, and you couldn’t deny the desire to crawl into his lap and drag his mouth to yours.  You could still remember the smokey taste of him, the way his fingers had bit into your hips, had replayed it countless times in your head over the past couple of months, and that spark of electricity that you’d felt hadn’t diminished.

'Yer serious?’   Daryl was staring at you now as though you’d gone mad, but you nodded insistently, pushing aside your food and sitting up straighter as you regarded him.

'You first: truth or dare?’

With a resigned huff, Daryl thought for a moment before announcing, 'Truth, I guess.  Don’ know what dares ya’d come up with in here anyway.’

You had a few in mind, you thought with a smirk, but he’d asked for truth.  ‘What’s your best Christmas memory?’

If possible, his already stony face fell further.  ‘What sort o’ question is that?’

You shrugged.  'Well, this Christmas obviously sucks, so I thought we could talk about a better one.’

He took a swig from his drink, emptying the dregs from the bottom of the bottle and laid it on its side, spinning it on the surface of the table.  'When I was maybe six or seven.  My mom was still alive.  Dad was out drinkin’ but she’d managed to save some money.  Got me a toy car.  Wasn’ much but it was more than I’d ever had.  Merle was grounded so he spent all day playin’ with that damn car with me.  Don’ sound like nothin’ to you, I’ll bet, but that was a good day.’

‘Don’t say that,’ you chided him, gently.  ‘It sounds perfect.  I can’t imagine Merle ever being that sweet.’

'Ya don’ know him,’ Daryl bit out defensively, his gaze softening slightly when you physically flinched.  'Yer turn.  Truth or dare.’

'Truth,’ you decided.

'Tell me a secret.’

It was an unimaginative request, motivated by his discomfort with prying, you were sure, but he’d told you something real and you wanted to do the same.  'I think my folks might split up.’  You looked up from your drink to see him watching you intently.  ‘My dad works all the time and whenever he  _is_ home they fight.  They make each other miserable.  And everyone in town seems to think we’re this perfect little family, the sheriff and his girls.  It’s bullshit.’

“M sorry.’

You nodded.  'I’ve never told anyone that.  Not even-’

'I won’t say nothin’.’  The sincerity in his eyes told you that you could trust him and you felt a weight lift after finally confessing to your worries.

'Guess it’s your turn again.’

The game went on, each of you taking it in turns to reveal things about yourself, or doing stupid dares like downing shots of liquor from the bottle Daryl had found in the kitchen.  As the alcohol buzzed through your veins, inhibitions were lowered and, when Daryl selected truth again, you finally worked up the nerve to find out what you really wanted to know.

'Do you ever think about that night?  The Halloween party?’

‘What about it?’

'The game.  Our kiss.  Did it mean anything to you?’

For a heartbeat, his gaze locked on yours, and you could barely breathe as you waited for him to speak, but then he was ducking his head, brushing it off.  'What would it o’ meant?  Was just a game, like ya said.’

'I’m pretty sure it was you that said that.’

'So, what was it for you then?’

'You didn’t ask me truth or dare?’

'Jus’ answer the question.’

'Daryl, you have to ask-’

'Fine!  Truth or dare?’  His voice was raised, eyes narrowed in frustration and you inhaled shakily, suddenly nervous as he stared you down.

'Truth.’

'Ya think about it?’

'All the time.’

'Why?’

'Because no one’s ever kissed me like that before, and I…  I wanted to run after you when you walked out and I didn’t, and I’ve regretted it ever since.’

The air between you thickened as Daryl processed your words, the atmosphere shifting as he dropped his gaze to his hands and began to pull on his fingers.  'Stop.’

‘Truth or dare?’

'Nah, I don’ wanna play no more.’

‘Daryl, truth or dare.’

'Truth!’ he snapped, unable to deny you.

'Did you feel it?  That connection between us?  Did you feel it too?’

'I-I don'…  It din’t mean nothin’, alright?’

'Why?’

’'Cause girls like you don’ go for guys like me.’

'Girls like me?’

'Nice girls with families 'n’ money 'n’ a good life ahead of 'em.’

'Haven’t you listened to a damn word I’ve said?’ you growled in disbelief.  'My family is a mess.  Having money doesn’t make that any easier to deal with, Daryl!’

'Yeah?  Ya ever tried it the other way?’

'No.’  You were seized by a strong sense of determination and you crawled around the table to kneel beside him, forcing him to meet your gaze as you asked, 'Truth or dare?’

'Ain’t my turn.’  He knew what was coming, you both did, but he was still trying to fight it.

'Really?  Because I’m sure you just asked me a question.’

'That don’t-’

'Truth or dare?’

The tension between you had slipped from being fraught with anger to vibrating with a delicious anticipation and you thought you might scream if he didn’t answer soon.  When he did speak, it was barely audible.  'Dare.’

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, though your voice still shook as you issued your request.  'Kiss me.’

The words had barely left your mouth before his hands tangled in your hair and dragged your lips to his.  He kissed you just as hungrily as he had before, devouring you until you were gasping for breath and clinging to him, nails forming tiny crescents on the muscles of his arms as you held on tight.  His scruff was scratching against your skin, and you tried desperately to get closer as your teeth clashed, raw want making both your movements sloppy, messy.  And then he was hauling you into his lap, groaning deep in his throat as you twisted to straddle him, the hard wood making your knees ache, though the heat building within you overwhelmed the pain.  

You might have maintained some kind of control.  You might have been able to pull yourself away if it hadn’t been for the way he looked at you when he finally broke the kiss.  His name had fallen from your lips in a desperate whimper and his gaze had locked on yours, and you’d been able to see so much behind his eyes:  need and confusion and loneliness, all of which you recognised in your own face when you looked in the mirror.  You were lost to him from that moment on.

When he laid you back on the floor, his movements were jerky and fumbling, and you knew instinctively that this would be a first for the both of you.  But it didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter that his hands shook as he peeled your clothes from your body, or that he flushed with shame when you pulled his shirt over his head and traced your fingers over the scars that criss-crossed his back.  It didn’t matter that his touch was experimental and that yours was nervous, your palms damp with sweat.  And it didn’t matter that, when he finally sunk into you, it hurt, like stubbing your toe on a door but deep inside of you, because, when he began to move, you forgot about everything but the weight of him on top of you, and the feel of him, and the scent of him swimming in the air.  

It was over far too quickly and yet somehow it was still momentous, as he rolled off of you and gave you a bashful smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in to his side.  You nuzzled against him, breathing him in, wondering if you’d ever felt more connected with a person than you did as his heart beat out a steady rhythm beneath your head.

When you finally found the energy to move, you curled around each other in the sagging armchair, a thinning shawl tucked around you, as Daryl settled on an old black and white movie to watch on TV, and you drifted into a dreamless sleep in his arms.  

 

* * *

 

When you woke, the light outside was fading, and you cursed as you eased yourself out of Daryl’s embrace and began to search for your clothes.  He too had slept eventually, and now he blinked dazedly as he watched you pulling your jeans back up your legs and slipping your arms into your sweater.

‘Ya leavin’?’

‘I’ve got to.  It’s getting late.  My mom will worry.’

‘Right.’  All at once the steely gaze was back, as the shutter slammed down, leaving you out in the cold.  

‘No, don’t do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘Shut me out again.’  Finished dressing, you crossed the room towards him and reached for his hands, tugging him to his feet so you could stare up into his face.  ‘This meant something, Daryl.  It did.  Don’t pretend-’

‘Din’t mean nothin’,’ he insisted, stubbornly.  ‘Jus’ for Christmas, right?’

‘No!’  You almost stamped your foot at how pig-headed the infuriating boy could be.  ‘It’s not.  I don’t want to regret keeping my mouth shut again.  I like you.’

‘Yer old man won’ like it.’

‘Yeah, well, these days I don’t like him much anyway,’ you reminded him.  ‘It doesn’t change how I feel.’

‘Why?’  There was genuine disbelief writ over his face and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to brush your lips over his.

‘Because you’re sweet and you’re kind and you’re better than anyone knows.’

‘How’d ya figure?’

‘You took me in on Christmas day, didn’t you?’  He nodded slowly and you went on.  ‘Look, you can think I’m lying if you want, I get it.  But I will be back, I promise you that.’

With that, you turned to leave, but his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back to him so he could dip his head and kiss you again, long and hard, large hand cupping your face.  ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘I’ll see you on New Year’s,’ you whispered, crossing your heart and knowing that you had to find him and kiss him at midnight if you stood a chance of convincing him that you were serious.  And you were.  

As you slipped out of the door, Daryl Dixon found himself smiling.  His own flesh and blood had abandoned him for the holiday and still he couldn’t contain his grin.  He wasn’t sure he could trust you, believe you when you said that you wanted him, that you wanted more.  But either way, it had been a good day, and he was pretty sure he’d just made a new favourite Christmas memory.  The loneliness didn’t creep back in, even as darkness fell and still his old man didn’t return.  Instead, he stretched out on the floor, imagining that it was still warm from your bodies, and relived the afternoon over and over until sleep took him again, and Christmas was done for another year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the clock ticks down to midnight, will the reader see the New Year in with Daryl as she promised? And will she be able to convince him that her feelings are real?

The house was quiet.  No light shone from the windows, no figure slumped on the porch as a wisp of smoke curled from the end of a lit cigarette.  It looked as though nobody was home and your heart sank as you sucked in a breath, muscles burning from the brisk pace of your walk.

 _I’ll see you on New Year’s_.  You were sure you’d told him that.  You’d almost thought he might be waiting for you.

It was your own fault, you chided yourself bitterly.  You’d left it too late, timing your arrival for almost midnight, afraid that if you got there too early he’d overthink things and push you away, or that you’d find yourself trapped in an awkward situation with his old man.  And instead you found yourself alone as the clock ticked down.

You turned, shoulders slumping with disappointment as you made to set out for home, but the creak of a wooden door swinging open brought a small smile to your lips.

You halted, not daring to turn as the thud of footsteps drew nearer, until they stopped right behind you and there came the gruff rasp of a throat being cleared.

‘Ya goin’ somewhere?’

Finally you span to meet him, your eyes locking on Daryl’s crystal blue gaze.  You could smell the heavy smoky scent of him, mingling with the leather of his jacket, and your mind flashed back to the feeling of him moving on top of you as your spine scraped against the boarded floor of his living room, stoking the fire that had already flickered to life in your belly.  'You were sitting in the dark?’

'What about it?’

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance.  'Thought you weren’t home.’

He ducked his head, studying the toe of his boot intently as he muttered, 'Wasn’t sure ya’d come.  Din’t want people thinkin’…’

'What?  That you’d stayed home all night waiting on a girl?’

'Waitin’ on the sheriff’s girl,’ he corrected you, the tips of his ears reddening, illuminated by the glow of the streetlamps.  'Neighbors talk.’

'Let 'em.’  You brushed off his concerns as you took a step closer, fingers itching to reach up and lace into his hair.  'I told you I’d be here.’

He shifted uncomfortably.  'Still ain’t sure why.’

He still didn’t get it and it was with a growl of frustration that you decided to show him instead of trying in vain to explain, closing the distance between you and sliding your hand to the back of his neck.  You met no resistance when you pulled his mouth down to yours - this was a familiar dance now to the two of you, despite the fact that he still eyed you warily, like a stranger - and, when cheers erupted from the houses that lined the street, you realised that you’d made your move just in time.  Midnight.

In the distance, fireworks popped and crackled, and neither you nor Daryl paused to draw breath as you lost yourselves in a kiss that tasted like hope and kept promises.  His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, deep groans rumbling from his chest as he pulled you closer, large hands spread over your back, touch burning through the fabric of your jacket.

When you finally came up for air, he leant his forehead against yours, and you fixed him with a satisfied smile.  'That’s why.  And it wasn’t just a game this time,’ you continued before he could interrupt.  'And it wasn’t just for Christmas.  This time it’s because I wanted to start the New Year with you.  I want to spend the year with you.  I want to see if we can make this work.’

‘Yer old man ain’t gonna like it.’ 

‘I don’t care.’ 

For a moment, he didn’t speak, gazing intently at your face as though expecting to see a trace of insincerity.  Then, finding none, he bent to brush his lips against yours once more.  'Ya comin’ inside?’

Your answering nod couldn’t have been more enthusiastic, and he smirked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you back towards his front gate.

'Daryl?’  Your voice was barely audible over the explosions that continued across town, but the squeeze of his fingers on your shoulder let you know that he was listening.  'It’s gonna be a good year, right?’

You could hear the foreign hint of contentment in his voice as he replied, 'Best one yet.’


End file.
